Some days ago I went to a party called "A todo 90" - which could be traslated as "Like in the 90s". The idea of the production was to remember the music from that decade, so its target was people like me: young adults between the ages of 25 and 40. Along with the music, there were also clips from our distant childhood and teenage years, like TV programs and well known spots, so it was like going back in time for a few hours. Well, at least for me it was and big time.
The moment I arrived at the place I felt in the late 90s, 'cause right outside the door was an old classmate who used to be a real asshole, and guess what? Twelve years later he's still an asshole. When I passed through the door I sense the 90s spirit right away, not only because of the music (though I must say that a couple of songs I heard weren't from that decade) but also for the people moving around the warehouse where they were throwing the party. A few minutes there where enough to realize that not only the asshole had been brought back from my past. The instant I step on the dancefloor I saw the chubby chic who didn't care about anything but dancing. To her left there were the vultures, with the exact same hairdoes I saw them wearing a decade and a half before, and of course they set their gazes on the cuties dancing a little to my right. But just like in the 90s those girls were there to have fun and not to be asked out by the usual jerks, so without any words they soon flight away to find a new prey.
Walking around the dancefloor was the really fat guy from high school, even fatter than then, closening to the crowd now and then to see if some girl would dance with him and being rejected over and over. I even saw him dancing beside a group of blondies, trying to give the false impression that they were somehow together, so it was a really sad scene to watch. Oh, and surely the cool guys were there too, making a huge effort to look as cool as they used to as teens.
And there I was. Wearing similar clothes than in the 90s, my hair just a little shorter, a few wrinkles in my face, my belly just a bit bigger (nothing that liposuction couldn't cure), some new scars and the same bad temper, using the same boring moves while I danced but trying to be acceptable for the cute girl in front of me so I could steal her a smile. But there was a little difference this time, 'cause the girl wasn't going to use the 'need to go to the bathroom' excuse nor was she going to leave me hanging at the end of the night without even the insinuation of a kiss. This time the cute girl was leaving home with me because, after all, she wasn't -she isn't- just a one night stand nor a simple puppy love: she's the love of my life.
